by Jack Vance
Farr mused. "How could Zhde Patasz Sainh know that I planned to return to Earth? When I left Tjiere this was not my intent."
"I spoke with him only last night by telecom."
"I see," said Farr grudgingly. "Well, naturally I'll do what I can to help you. Which part of Earth will you visit?"
"My plans are not yet complete. I go to inspect Zhde Patasz's houses at their various plantings, and no doubt will travel considerably."
"What do you mean 'choose my associates with caution'?"
"Just that. It seems that rumors of the Thord raid have reached Jhespiano, and have been enlarged in the process. Certain criminal elements might on this account be interested in your activities —but then, I speak too freely." Omon Bozhd rose to his feet, bowed, and departed. Farr stared after him in utter perplexity.
On the next evening the hotel management, taking cognizance of the large number of Earther guests, arranged a musical soiree, with Earth-style music and Earth-style refreshments. Almost all the guests, Earthers and otherwise, attended.
Farr became mildly intoxicated on Scotch-and-soda, to the extent that he found himself behaving with great gallantry toward the youngest and prettiest of the touring teachers. She seemed to return his interest and they strolled arm in arm along the promenade overlooking the beach. There was small talk, then suddenly she turned him an arch look. "If I may say so, you certainly don't seem the type."
" Type? What type?"
"Oh—you know. A man capable of fooling the Iszics and stealing trees right from under their very noses."
Farr laughed. "Your instincts are correct. I'm not."
Again she turned him a quick sidewise look. "I've heard differently on ever so reliable authority."
Farr tried to keep his voice light and casual. "So? What did you hear?"
"Well—naturally it's supposed to be secret, because if the Iszics knew, you'd be sent to the Mad House, so obviously you wouldn't be particularly keen to talk about it. But the person who told me is quite reliable, and of course I'd never say a word to anyone. In fact, my reaction is, cheers!"
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," said Farr in an edgy voice.
"No, I suppose you'd never really dare admit it," said the young woman regretfully. ."After all, I might be an Iszic agent—they do have them, you know."
"Once and for all," said Farr, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The raid on Tjiere," said the young woman. "It's going around that you're the brains behind the raid. That you're smuggling trees out of Iszm for delivery on Earth. Everybody is talking about it."
Farr laughed sadly. "What utter nonsense. If this were true, do you imagine I'd be at large? Of course not. The Iszics are considerably more clever than you give them credit for… How did this ridiculous idea get started?"
The young woman was disappointed. She would have preferred a daring tree-thief to plain ordinary innocent Aile Farr. "I'm sure I don't know."
"Where did you hear it?"
"At the hotel. Some of the people were talking about it."
"Anything for a sensation," said Farr.
The young woman sniffed and her demeanor was notably cooler as they returned to the terrace.
No sooner had they seated themselves than four Szecr with headdresses betokening high rank, marched across the room. They stopped at Farr's table, and bowed curtly. "If Farr Sainh pleases, his presence is requested elsewhere."
Farr sat back, half of a notion to defy the group. He looked around the terrace, but saw only averted faces. The teacher was in a transport of excitement.
"Where is my presence desired?" demanded Farr in a voice stiff with fury. "And why?"
"There are a few routine inquiries to be made, in connection with your professed business on Iszm."
"Can't it wait till tomorrow?"
"No, Farr Sainh. Please come at once."
Seething with indignation Farr rose to his feet, and surrounded by the Szecr, walked from the terrace.
He was taken a quarter-mile to a small three-pod tree near the beach. Within an old Iszic sat on a divan. He motioned Farr to sit opposite, and introduced himself as Usimr Adislj, of the caste comprising savants, theoreticians, philosophers and other formulators of abstract principles. "Learning of your presence in Jhespiano, and your almost immediate departure, I felt it my duty to make your acquaintance as expeditiously as possible. I understand that on Earth you are professionally connected with the field of knowledge that is one of our major preoccupations?"
"That is true," said Farr shortly. "I am immensely flattered by your attention, but I could have wished for its manifestation in less emphatic terms. Everyone at the hotel is certain I have been arrested by the Szecr for the crime of house-stealing."
Usimr Adislj gave an uninterested shrug. "This craving for morbid sensation is a general trait of those hominids of simian descent. It is an emotion I believe may best be countered by lofty contempt."
"Indeed," said Farr. "I agree. But was it necessary to send four Szecr with your invitation? It was less than discreet."
"No matter. Men of our stature cannot be bothered with such trifles. Now tell me of your background and your special interests."
For four hours he and Usimr Adislj discussed Iszm, Earth, the universe, the variations of man and the direction of the future. When the Szecr, their number and quality now reduced to a pair of underlings, finally escorted Fair back to the hotel, he felt that he had passed a highly rewarding evening.
The next morning, when he appeared on the terrace for breakfast, he was greeted with something like awe. Mrs. Anderview, the pretty young wife of the missionary, said, "We thought for sure you'd been taken away— to jail. Or even the Mad House. And we wondered if we shouldn't arouse the Administrator immediately."
"It was unimportant," said Farr. "Just a mistake. But thank you for your interest."
The Monagi also questioned him. "Is it a fact that you and the Thord have completely outwitted the Szecr? Because if so, we can make you a very handsome offer for any female tree of which you chance to find yourself in possession."
"I am capable of outwitting no one," declared Farr. "I own no female tree, by chance or otherwise."
The Monagi nodded and winked knowingly. "Naturally, naturally, not on Iszm where even the grass has ears."
The next day the SS Andrei Simic dropped down from the sky, and departure hour was posted precisely: nine o'clock of the morning two days hence. During these final two days Farr found the Szecr possibly even more assiduous in their watchfulness. The night before departure one of them approached and with great punctilio delivered a message. "If Farr Sainh can spare the time, he is asked to call at the embarkation office."
"Very well," said Farr, resigning himself to the worst. He dispatched his luggage to the space-terminal, and presented himself at the embarkation office, expecting an examination to end all examinations.
The Szecr completely confounded him. He was conducted into the pod of the Szecr sub-commandant, who spoke bluntly and to the point.
"Farr Sainh—you may have sensed our interest during the last few weeks."
Farr expressed agreement.
"I may not divulge the background to the case," said the Szecr. "The surveillance was motivated by concern for your safety."
"My safety?"
"We suspect that you are in danger."
"Danger? Ridiculous."
"Not so. Quite the contrary. On the night of the musicale, we removed a poisoned thorn from your seat. On yet another occasion, while you drank on the terrace, poison was introduced into your goblet."
Farr's mouth dropped in astonishment. Somewhere, somehow, a terrible mistake was being made. "How can you be sure of all this? It seems —incredible!"
The Iszic flickered the filament dividing his double eyes in amusement. "You remember formalities connected with arrival at Iszm. They allow us to maintain a quarantine upon the import of weapons. Poison is a different matter.
A speck of dust can be infected with ten million virulent bacteria, and can be concealed without difficulty. Hence, any out-worlder planning murder must employ strangulation or poison. The vigilance of the Szecr prohibits acts of physical violence, so we must only be alert for poison. What are the vehicles? Food, drink, injection. When we classify the various means and devices to achieve these ends, we find one of the subdivisions to read: 'Poisoned thorn, splinter or barb, calculated to penetrate or puncture the thigh, haunch, or buttock, through vertical impingement under force of gravity.' Hence, our surveillance at all times includes the chair or benches where you are likely to sit."
"I see," said Farr in a subdued voice.
"Poison in your drink we detect by means of a reagent which darkens when a change of any sort is made in the mother solution. When one of your Scotch-and-sodas became unusually murky, we removed it and provided a substitute."
"This is extremely bewildering," said Farr. "Who would want to poison me? For what reason?"
"I have been authorized to communicate only this warning."
"But—what are you warning me against?"
"The details will contribute nothing to your safety."
"But—I've done nothing!"
The Szecr sub-commandant twirled his viewer. "The universe is eight billion years old, the last two billion of which have produced intelligent life. During this time not one hour of absolute equity has prevailed. It should be no surprise to find this basic condition applying to your personal affairs."
"In other words—"
"In other words—tread soundlessly, look around corners, follow enticing females into no dark chambers."
He plucked a taut string; a young Szecr appeared. "Conduct Aile Farr Sainh aboard the Andrei Simic. We are waiving all further examinations."
Farr stared in disbelief.
"Yes, Farr Sainh," said the Szecr. "We feel you have demonstrated your honesty."
Farr left the pod in a daze of perplexity. Something was wrong. The Iszic waived examination of no one and nothing.
Alone in his cubicle aboard the Andrei Simic, he eased himself down on the elastic panel that served as his bed. He was in danger. The Szecr had said so. It was an unsettling idea. Farr had a normal quota of courage. In fighting tangible enemies he would not disgrace himself. But to learn that his life might be taken, to be ignorant of the hows and whys and wherefores—it brought a queasy turmoil to his stomach… Of course, thought Farr, the Szecr sub-commandant might be in error; or he might have used the mysterious threat to speed Farr away from Iszm.
He rose to his feet and searched his cabin. He found no overt mechanisms, no spy-cells. He arranged his possessions in such a way that he would notice a disturbance. Then, sliding aside the fiber panel, he looked out upon the catwalk. It was a ribbon of striated gray glass —empty. Farr stepped out and walked hurriedly to the lounge.
He examined the roster. There were twenty-eight passengers including himself. Some of the names he recognized: Mr. and Mrs. Anderview, Jonas Ralf, Wilfred Willeran and Omon Bozhd; others, approximate renderings of alien phonemes, meant nothing.
Farr returned to his cabin, locked the door, and lay down on the bed.
VII
NOT TILL the Andrei Simic was space-borne and the captain came to the lounge for the routine reading of the ship's regulations did Farr see his fellow passengers. There were seven Iszic, nine Earthers, the three Monagi savants, three Codain monks performing a ritual pilgrimage around the worlds, five others of assorted worlds, most of whom had arrived at Iszm with the ship. Except for Omon Bozhd, the Iszic wore the gold and black stripes of planter's agents, high-caste austere men, more or less of a type. Farr presumed that two or perhaps three were Szecr. The Earthers included a pair of talkative young students, a grizzled sanitary engineer on leave to Earth, the Anderviews, Ralf and Willeran, and Carto and Maudel Wlewska, a young couple on tour.
Farr assessed the group, trying to picture each in the role of a potential assassin and finally admitted himself at a loss. Those who had already been aboard the ship seemed automatically eliminated from suspicion, as did the Codain monks and the cherubic Monagi. It was wildly unreasonable to suspect the Iszics, which more or less left the Earthers—but why should any of these seek to harm him? Why should he expect harm from anyone? He scratched his head in perplexity, disturbing the scab he still carried from his slide down the Tjiere root-tube.
The voyage settled into routine —steady identical hours broken by meals and sleep-periods at whatever rhythm the passenger chose. To while away the tedium, or perhaps because the tedium provided nothing else to think of, Farr began an innocent flirtation with Mrs. Anderview. Her husband was engrossed in writing a voluminous report regarding the achievements of his mission at Dapa Coory, on the planet Mazen, and was seen only at meal-times, leaving Mrs. Anderview much to herself —and to Farr. She was a graceful woman, with a rich mouth and a provocative half-smile. Farr's part in the affair extended no further than a frame of mind, a warmth of tone, a significant glance or two—a lukewarm matter at best. He was correspondingly surprised when Mrs. Anderview, whose first name he did not know, came quietly into his cabin one evening, smiling with a kind of shy recklessness.
Farr sat up blinking.
"May I come in?"
"You're already in."
Mrs. Anderview nodded slowly and slid the panel shut behind her. Farr noticed suddenly that she was far prettier than he had let himself observe, that she wore a perfume of indefinable sweetness: aloes, cardamon, limone.
She sat beside him. "I grow so bored," she complained. "Night after night Merritt writes, it's always the same. He thinks of nothing but his budget. And I—I like fun."
The invitation could hardly have been more explicit. Farr examined first one side of the situation then the other. He cleared his throat, while Mrs. Anderview, blushing a little, watched him.
There was a rap at the door. Farr jumped to his feet, as if he were already guilty. He eased the panel open. Waiting outside was Omon Bozhd.
"Farr Sainh, may I consult you for a moment? I would consider it a great favor."
"Well," said Farr, "I'm busy right now."
"The matter transcends business."
Farr turned to the woman. "Just a minute, I'll be right back."
"Hurry!" She seemed very impatient. Farr looked at her in surprise and started to speak.
"Sh," she warned him. Farr shrugged and stepped out into the corridor.
"What's the trouble?" he asked Omon Bozhd.
"Farr Sainh—would you like to save your life?"
"Very much indeed," said Farr, "but—"
"Invite me into your cabin." Omon Bozhd took a step forward.
"There's hardly room," said Farr. "And anyway—"
The Iszic said earnestly, "You understand the pattern, do you not?"
"No," said Farr. "I'd like to—but I'm afraid I don't."
Omon Bozhd nodded. "Your gallantry must be forgotten. Let us enter your cabin. There is not much time." Sliding back the panel, he stepped through. Farr followed, sure he was a fool, but not sure exactly what kind of fool.
Mrs. Merritt Anderview jumped to her feet. "Oh," she gasped, flushing. "Mr. Farr!"
Farr held out his hands helplessly. Mrs. Anderview started to march from the cabin, but Omon Bozhd stood in her way. He grinned, his pale mouth split, showing his gray palate and his arch of pointed teeth.
"Please, Mrs. Anderview, do not leave, your reputation is safe."
"I have no time to waste," she said sharply. Farr saw suddenly that she was not pretty, that her face was pinched, her eyes angry and selfish.
"Please," said Omon Bozhd, "not just yet. Sit down, if you will."
A rap-rap on the door. A voice hoarse with fury. "Open up, open up in there!"
"Certainly," said Omon Bozhd. He flung the panel wide. Anderview stood framed in the opening, the whites of his eyes showing. He held a shatter-gun, his hand was trembling. He saw Omon Bozhd, his shoulders s
agged, his jaw slackened.
"Excuse me for not asking you in," said Farr. "We're a little crowded."
Anderview reorganized his passion. "What's going on in here?"
Mrs. Anderview pushed out upon the catwalk. "Nothing," she said in a throaty voice. "Nothing at all." She swept down the corridor.
In a negligent voice Omon Bozhd spoke to Anderview. "There is nothing for you here. Perhaps you had better join your lady."
Anderview slowly turned on his heel and departed.
Farr felt weak in the knees. Here were depths he could not fathom, whorls of motive and purpose… He sank down on the bunk, burning at the thought of how he had been played for a sucker.
"An excellent pretext for expunging a man," remarked the Iszic. "At least in the framework of Earth institutions."
Farr glanced up sharply, detecting a sardonic flavor to the remark. He said grudgingly, "I guess you saved my hide —two or three square feet of it, anyway."
Omon Bozhd moved his hand, gesturing with a nonexistent viewer. "A trifle."
"Not to me," Farr growled. "I like my hide."
The Iszic turned to go.
"Just a minute," said Farr. He rose to his feet. "I want to know what's going on."
"The matter is surely self-explanatory?"
"Maybe I'm stupid."
The Iszic examined him thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're too close to the situation to see it in its whole."
"You're of the Szecr?" asked Farr.
"Every foreign agent is of the Szecr."
"Well, what's going on? Why are the Anderviews after me?"
"They've weighed you, balanced your usefulness against the danger you represent."
"This is absolutely fantastic!"
Omon Bozhd focused both fractions of his eyes on Farr. He spoke in a reflective key. "Every second of existence is a new miracle. Consider the countless variations and possibilities that await us every second—avenues into the future. We take only one of these; the others—who knows where they go? This is the eternal marvel, the magnificent uncertainty of the second next to come, with the past a steady unfolding carpet of denouement."
